


Until You're Resting Here With Me

by Limestone_and_Hemlock



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alex Manes Deserves Nice Things, Angst, But also nothing is resolved in this fic, Canon Compliant, Canon Disabled Character, I just want them all to be happy, Lost Decade (Roswell New Mexico), Love, M/M, MOUTH STUFF, Maria DeLuca Deserves Nice Things, Michael Guerin Deserves Nice Things, Multi, POV Michael Guerin, butt stuff, hand stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:54:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28557939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Limestone_and_Hemlock/pseuds/Limestone_and_Hemlock
Summary: I won't leave, I can't hide, I cannot be....(Michael and Alex over the years, plus Maria at the end.)
Relationships: Maria DeLuca/Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 16
Kudos: 37





	1. The Truck

1\. The Truck

Michael and Alex stayed in the truck bed until the sun went down. They got between the unzipped sleeping bags as the pyrotechnics of the desert sunset faded to cool cobalt and the temperature dropped. These days, Michael kept two sleeping bags in the truck.

Alex’s hand found his as a coyote keened nearby. Michael rolled onto his side to nuzzle at the warm, tender skin of Alex’s neck. He breathed deep, pulling the scent of Alex into his lungs.

“That tickles,” Alex whispered, squirming against him. Michael grinned against his neck, thinking of other things he could do to make Alex squirm.

“I’m glad you stayed,” he murmured instead. Alex turned his head and they kissed, deep and slow.

“I wish I could stay longer,” Alex told him. “I’d like you to be there when I wake up. I wish I didn’t have to go back to my dad’s.”

Michael felt a flutter in his abdomen at that. “What if you didn’t?”

“What do you mean?”

Michael hesitated, then inhaled. “We could leave town.”

“My dad would kill me.”

“You turn eighteen in two days,” Michael said. “Drill Sergeant Manes can’t stop you.”

“Master Sergeant.”

“What?”

“His title’s Master Sergeant, not Drill Sergeant.”

“What do you care what I call him?” Michael asked, lifting his broken hand. “Did you forget about this?”

“Of course not,” Alex said. “And I don’t care, it’s just…” he sighed. “If I said yes. If I went home and packed a bag right now, where would we go? What’s the plan?”

Michael shrugged, trying to tamp down the dizzying sense of hope in his chest. “You. Me. The open road.”

“I mean how would we eat, Michael? The only work experience I have is selling museum tickets to tourists in tinfoil hats. And where would we sleep? The truck?”

Michael sat up sharply, sending a jolt of pain through his left hand. “If sleeping in a truck is so bad, I don’t know what you’re doing with me.”

Alex put a hand on his shoulder, but Michael shook off his touch. “Michael, I didn’t mean…”

“I know what you meant,” Michael said, climbing over the tailgate and hitting the ground with both feet.

“What are you doing?” Alex asked.

“Taking you home,” Michael said, refusing to look at him. “And don’t worry. I’ll kill the lights when I turn onto your street.


	2. Home

Things had changed in the three years since Alex left. Michael had a job, sort of. And a trailer, parked in the junkyard. It beat the hell out of shivering in the cab of his truck, or running the heater until the battery died. He hadn’t spoken to Alex since the day he left without saying goodbye. Had only seen him from a distance, come to that.

Until tonight, when he ran into Alex at the Pony. Physically. If he still cared what Alex thought, the look in his eyes as he said, _watch where you’re going, Guerin,_ would have been enough to break Michael’s heart. Alex had ditched the eyeliner, and the septum piercing. These days he never took his uniform off, even when he was on leave.

Well. Almost never. The fatigues were on the narrow strip of floor by Michael’s bed now. Alex was on his back, naked and flushed, hard in Michael’s hand. Michael stretched out beside him, languid, still in his jeans.

“Look at me,” Michael said. Alex’s eyes fluttered open. His expression was almost pained, raw and vulnerable. Michael had been teasing him for nearly an hour. He put his mouth to Alex’s ear. “Tell me what you want.”

“You,” Alex said. “Please.”

“No,” Michael said forcefully, surprising himself. Usually, Alex gave the orders, and Michael was more than happy to obey. “Tell me what you want or I’ll stop, Alex. I swear.” He let his hand go slack.

Alex moaned and arched upward, heels digging into the mattress. He murmured something, too low for Michael to hear.

“Say it.”

“I want you to suck my dick,” Alex whispered as Michael took hold of him again.

“Want to come in my mouth?” Michael murmured against his neck.

Alex’s only response was a desperate whimper. Michael relented, and slid down the bed to take Alex into his mouth.


	3. Memory

“You should find yourself some better engineers.” Michael tried to shoulder past Alex, who grabbed his wrist. Hard.

“You are wasting your life, Guerin.” In spite of everything–the years, the pain, the secrets–Alex’s closeness, and the bruising grip on his wrist, sent a ripple of want through Michael’s belly.

So he did the only thing he could. Smiled sharply, leaned close: “You trying to hold my hand, Private?”

“Does the macho cowboy swagger thing ever get old with you?” Alex’s breath on his neck sent waves of sense memory crashing over Michael’s skin. The dusty smell of the air that day in the shed. Muffling his cries in Alex’s shoulder. Alex panting against his neck.

“Did it get old for you?”


	4. Safe

Michael knelt on his bed in the warm, close darkness. Maria kissed him, slow and sweet, hard nipples brushing against his chest. He felt the warmth of Alex’s bare chest against his back, strong arms wrapped around him and Maria. He could have cried with gratitude and relief as their hearts beat against him. He was crying, he realized, as Maria brushed wetness from his cheek. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered again.

“I want you,” Alex whispered against the nape of his neck.

“Good,” Michael said, turning his head to kiss Alex over his shoulder. “Have me.” He rolled his hips, feeling Alex’s erection against the small of his back through the rough denim of Alex’s jeans.

Alex pulled away. “Um.”

“In the drawer under the hot plate,” Maria supplied.

Alex stood as Michael kissed Maria again. 

“Christ, Guerin, who keeps condoms in the kitchen?” Alex asked as he rattled around in the drawer; Michael felt a small huff of air as Maria laughed against his mouth. Alex sat on the edge of the bed to take his pants and prosthetic off, then settled behind Michael again, calloused fingers of one hand curling around his hip.

“ _Oh_ ,” Michael said, eyes rolling shut, because Alex’s fingers were in him, slippery with lube, opening him, overwhelming him with sensation.

And Maria’s palms were flat on his chest, lips touching his ear as she murmured, “do you like his fingers in you?”

As an answer, Michael buried his face in her hair and slipped a hand between her thighs. She sighed and pushed herself against his palm, warm and wet and willing and _alive_ , thank god. She fell back against Michael’s pillow.

Alex gave him a push between his shoulder blades. “Use your mouth, Guerin,” he said, voice soft and deep. Michael went to his hands and knees to taste Maria and then¬–

“ _Fuck_ ,” he whispered against her, sending a shiver over her belly and thighs as Alex withdrew his fingers and pushed his cock into Michael. He did it hard, the rough entry bringing tears to Michael’s eyes. God, it had been months since anyone had taken him like that, and it _hurt_ , and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so grateful. For Alex. For Maria. For both of them, safe with him for at least one night.


End file.
